Of The Sun
by Nico Morrison
Summary: A man...a wife...a child. Four years into their marriage, Erik and Christine must right the wrongs of their past. Sequel to Of The Stars. EC COMPLETE!
1. Christine's Return

_**So...are we ready for the sequel?**_

_**Since a lot of you seemed to like Of the Stars, I'm going to try to write a sequel. I had started another Phan fic, but stopped in my tracks. I've become too attached to the Erik and Christine in Of the Stars to start writing them in a new situation.**_

_**So here we go. I hope you likey.**_

* * *

"I'm scared, Mama! I don't like this place!" Christine Daee's four year old daughter tugged at her mother's skirts, trying to pull her away from the entrance of the Opera Populaire.

Christine stooped to the little girl's level. Madeline Daee's small lips were curved into a pout, her black hair slightly mussed. "Madeline," Christine said lovingly. "I know this place is scary...there was a time when I was afraid to walk through those doors."

Madeline's eyes went wide. "You? You was scared?"

Christine smiled. "Yes, but I came to realize that nothing could hurt me, not when your father was close by."

Madeline looked confused. "But Papa is not with us, he's home...playing on his piano...and that's where I want to be!"

"Madeline, you must be brave," Christine said gently. "We will only be inside for a few moments, and then we can go home to Papa."

This seemed to sate the small girl. She hugged her favorite teddy bear closer to her chest. "Ok Mama," she relented. "I can be brave."

Christine straightened, looking at the Opera Populaire. "That's my girl," she said proudly. "Now hold my hand tight...and don't wander off."

The lobby of the Opera Populaire was empty. Even so, the feelings rising in Christine's chest were almost too much for her to bear.

She swallowed hard, smiling down at Madeline, who looked miserable.

The white envelope in Christine's free hand shook slightly. "Come along, Madeline...I'm going to show you the stage."

Madeline visibly perked. "The stage? Where the dancing ladies are?"

Christine laughed out loud. "Who told you about the dancing ladies?"

Madeline shrugged. "Papa," she answered, tugging at her stockings, which were already dirty.

Christine stopped walking.

"Mama?" Madeline asked. They were standing in front of yet another set of gilded doors. "Mama, what's the matter?"

Christine took a deep breath. Erik had warned her that her return to the Opera House would be difficult, but she had merely shrugged the notion off, insisting that she had to return...

she had to.

She pulled open the doors.

Carlotta's voice instantly filled her ears.

The Opera Populaire was in the midst of a rehearsal.

Christine's heart momentarily paused, memories of her past...of what had happened on the stage...began flooding her mind.

She was snapped back into reality as Madeline pulled her small, sweaty hand from Christine's and began to run, full speed, towards the stage.

"Madeline!" Christine yelled, running after her. The small child's quick legs and lack of heavy skirts allowed her to run all the way down the aisle and to the edge of the orchestra pit.

The music suddenly stopped, the maestro too distracted by the presence of a small child to continue conducting.

"Madeline, I told you not to run off like that!" Christine admonished. Madeline looked from her to the cast on the stage, who were staring at Christine and the small girl in shock.

Madeline, however, was unfazed.

"Look Mama!" She shrieked in happiness. "Dancing girls!"

Christine blushed. Madeline was far too young to realize what the term "dancing girl" was a euphemism for.

A woman dressed from head to toe suddenly appeared downstage, looking down at Christine and Madeline.

The sight of the woman frightened Madeline, who immediately hid herself behind her mother's skirts.

"Madame Giry," Christine breathed, tears forming on her lashes at the sight of the woman who had acted as both mother and friend in Christine's past. Oceans of silent feelings passed between the two.

"Christine," Madame Giry bobbed her head into a slight bow. "I see you got my letter."


	2. Reunions

**_I wanted to give ya'll another chapter...since mine are always so brief. To those of you new to this story, please read Of the Stars first...only because this story will refer back to it a lot. Also, it will give you a better feel for my writing style, which is kind of weird. :)_**

**_Oh yeah...standard disclaimers. Would love to own POTO, but do not._**

**_Enjoy! I hope you're as happy as I am that this story isn't over! (I'm so lame!)_**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

****

"What is _she _doing here?" Carlotta demanded, her shrill voice making Christine's skin crawl. "I will not be singing if she is here!"

Carlotta snatched a fluffy brown dog from one of her assistant's arms and held it tight to her chest, pouting.

"Mademoiselle Daee!" Monsieur Firmin suddenly emerged from the wings, Monsieur Andre close behind. "How wonderful to see you again!"

Christine slowly climbed up onto the stage, Madeline following closely behind. Her ex-managers each embraced her in turn, kissing each cheek politely.

"To what do we owe this pleasure?" Andre asked.

Carlotta harrumphed loudly from upstage.

"Actually she is here to see me," Madame Giry said, stepping forward to embrace Christine as well. "It is good to see you again," she said earnestly. She knelt down and craned her neck to see Madeline, who had been silent for the past several moments. "And it is good to meet you," Madame Giry said to her.

Madeline looked from the strange new woman to her mother. Christine smiled. "Go ahead darling. This is Madame Giry," she looked to the older woman, remembering all she had done for her…for Erik. "A very dear friend," she concluded.

Madeline continued to stare, her dark brown eyes narrowed slightly.

"I see so much of you," Madame Giry commented, straightening up again. "And also, so much of him."

Christine's smile widened. Few people knew of her marriage to Erik, or of Erik at all. She knew that most of the members of the Opera Populaire believed she had run away with a much older composer, content to live quietly in the rolling hills of the Paris countryside.

_Well,_ thought Christine. _They were more correct than they knew. _

One of the people who knew the truth, however, was the blond girl in a tutu running at full force in Christine's direction.

"Christine!" She exclaimed, nearly knocking the brunette off her feet as she enveloped her friend in a tight embrace. "It's been too long!"

Christine laughed, not realizing just how much she had missed Meg. She pulled away. "Meg," she said, still laughing. "There is someone I would like you to meet."

She pulled Madeline in front of her. Meg clasped her hands over her mouth and then instantly pulled the small girl into another embrace.

Madeline turned her head to Christine, her eyes wide. "Mama?" She squeaked.

"This is your Aunt Meg," Christine explained. "The one who writes us the letters," she finished, hoping Madeline would remember the monthly correspondences exchanged between the friends.

A spark of recognition flared in Madeline's eyes. She turned to Meg."Mama gets sad when she reads your letters," the child informed her.

"Does she?" Meg asked, instantly charmed by the girl. Madeline nodded.

"She says she misses you and wants to visit but that it's not safe for Papa," she said.

"Madeline, hush now," Christine said as Meg lifted sad eyes to hers.

"I miss your Mama too," Meg said softly. "But I must say, she never told me how beautiful you are," she added, forcing her tone to once again be light.

Madeline giggled.

"Hello?" Carlotta's voice pierced the happy reunion. "I do not work with _babies_ either," she informed Andre and Firmin, casting an evil glare in Madeline's direction.

Madeline stuck out her tongue.

"She is just like her mother!" Carlotta proclaimed. "Another Christine Daee, here to run me off the stage and back to America!"

And with a sweep of her embellished skirts, she dramatically left the stage, cursing in Italian the entire way.

The managers exchanged pained looks.

"Please excuse us, Miss Daee," Firmin bowed slightly.

"Of course," Christine said, feeling terribly sorry for the two men who rushed off to grovel at their one remaining diva's feet.

"Why have you returned, Christine?" Meg asked, used to the drama that was Carlotta.

Suddenly, Meg's expression changed. Her features literally fell into darkness. "Oh," she said softly. "I suppose you've heard…"

"Heard what?" Christine asked.

"Meg!" Madame Giry silenced her daughter.

Christine watched as mother and daughter exchanged glances.

"What is this all about?" Christine asked, a cold feeling creeping down her spine. "What's going on?"

Madame Giry looked back to the cast and down to the orchestra pit.

Everyone was staring, watching the scene unfold before them.

"Come," Madame Giry said, leading the way. "It is better we speak in private."


	3. Notes

_**It seems, my wonderful reviewers, that we have a special reader in the house…we have an honest-to-God "Madeline" reading along with us…I love the name, and it seemed to fit this little girl well, as I'm sure it does you! So, how does it feel having the same name as Erik and Christine's love child? teehee!**_

**_Well we're just getting started. Here's my last update today. Don't worry, we'll see Mr. Erik soon enough. Enjoy, and thanks for the reviews!_**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

"She truly is a gift, Christine," Madame Giry said as the three woman sat in the living area of Madame Giry's quarters within the Opera Populaire. Madeline had been immediately drawn to the far corner of the older woman's private chambers, where heaps of old costumes sat, waiting to be discarded or used again in a brand new opera. 

"Thank you, Madame," Christine said earnestly, smiling as she watched her daughter ease her small feet in to a pair of ballet slippers.

Her smile faded as she turned to face the Girys.

"Why have you brought me here," Christine asked, keeping her voice low.

Madame Giry looked to Meg, who grasped her mother's hand.

The two looked to Christine, who was nervously fidgeting with her skirts. "What is it?" She pressed.

"Christine," Madame Giry began, taking a deep breath. "He is alive."

Christine's stomach rolled; her face went deadly pale. Meg was instantly at her side, wrapping an arm around Christine's shoulder.

"Wh-who?" She asked, her throat dry. Meg closed her eyes briefly. "Raoul…"

As the name passed her lips, Christine felt as if she might be ill.

Many times she had thought about her ex-fiancé. She knew that he would always be a presence in both hers and Erik's life; it was something they both had come to terms with some time ago. There was even a point where she and Erik had agreed on feeling hints of pity for the young Vicomte, regardless of the actions which ultimately ended his life…

or so Christine had thought.

"Raoul is alive?" She said, more to herself than to the Girys. Madame Giry nodded. "How is it possible? It can't be!"

Meg squeezed her arm around Christine tighter. "It's true, Christine."

"But I saw him…_I saw him die_!" Christine said, lowering her voice when Madeline paused in her play to turn and face her mother.

"You saw him get shot and fall to the ground," Madame Giry corrected her. "And I was there, Christine. I admit, I thought he had passed as well." She elegantly rose, walking over to where Christine sat, placing a hand on her shoulder. "But it would appear, dear child, that we were both wrong."

Christine raised her eyes to Madame Giry, tears spilling over her cheeks with the action. She wiped them away quickly. "What does this have to do with me, Madame?" Her voice was a mere whisper, no more than a hush of silk against silk.

Meg looked to her mother, who nodded at her. Quickly, on silent, slippered feet, Meg moved over to her mother's large desk and opened the top drawer.

She pulled out a folded piece of paper and quickly returned, handing it to Christine.

"He has been sending letters to the Opera for some time now," Madame Giry explained. "This latest one was addressed to me. Most of the others were directed to the management, no doubt containing the money that has kept this Opera flourishing," she placed a finger under Christine's chin. "Even after such scandal."

Christine wiped another tear from her cheek. "But _this_ letter," she tapped a thin finger to the paper Christine now held in her hand. "This letter was different. Not because it was addressed to me, but because of what it contained."

She motioned for Christine to open the folds of the paper.

Christine took a deep breath and did so.

_Madame,_

_I have now sent the Opera House several notes of a most amicable nature, sorting out the details that allow the theater to be run. _

_I regret to inform you, my good woman, that this letter will not be as harmonious in nature as those of the past. _

_Now that I have fully healed from the atrocities of what was nothing short of a war, I believe it is time to compose the finale to this little production._

_I am aware of where your loyalties currently lay, Madame, and I will take this opportunity to remind you where they should be. Perhaps I am not making myself clear. _

_Perhaps it is better that way. _

_Wrongs need to be righted, my good woman. I look forward to your full cooperation in the matter. _

_I would hate to see any harm befall the Giry family. _

_Your Obedient Patron,_

_R.C. _

The note fell from Christine's cold hand, fluttering to the ground at Madame Giry's feet.

"This can't be real," Christine whispered. "This cannot possibly be real." She looked at Meg and her mother. "What is being done?"

Madame Giry shrugged. "I have never been one easily intimidated by threats," she said, an air of superiority to her tone.

"We are frightened, of course, Christine," Meg spoke softly. "But we received this letter almost a month ago now, and there has been no word..."

"But there will be," Christine shot back. "Meg, you didn't see him in those last days. He was crazed; nothing like the man I once knew." She stood, biting her thumbnail nervously. "He almost killed Erik," she whispered. "And I mourned for Raoul," she said, looking up at Madame Giry. "But not as much as I would have for Erik."

The room fell silent except for the quiet chattering of Madeline, who continued to play, completely innocent of the situation going on around her.

"Why didn't you contact me sooner to tell me he was alive?" Christine asked, her back to the women as she watched Madeline. "You've known for four years. Why tell me now?"

"I knew better than anyone of the horrors Erik had been made to suffer his entire life," Madame Giry said. "He had finally received what he had always wanted…always deserved. He had your love…and then a child! How could I disrupt that peace…that heaven that had remained just beyond his touch for so many years?"

Christine was crying freely now.

Madame Giry picked up Raoul's note. "This is the first letter I have received that implicated danger may be on the horizon. I thought you should know the truth before it was too late."

Christine blanched again.

Madame Giry still sought to protect her, even after all this time.

Even at her own expense.

Christine would not allow herself to be so weak in such a strong woman's presence.

She turned back to face Madame and Meg Giry.

"And so it seems the play shall continue," she said, forcing her voice to sound even, although her hand was shaking at her throat.

Madame Giry smiled bitterly. "And it would also seem, my dear, that we have all been recast."


	4. Madeline's Secret

**_Okay, so yeah. Brining Raoul back was a little cheesy, but come on. We need some conflict, right? And besides, I enjoy writing crazy Raoul. :)_**

**_Enjoy!_**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

****

"Papa!" Madeline ran into Erik's music room, jumping into his awaiting arms.

"Maddy, my love," Erik said, swinging the little girl to his chest. Madeline pressed her small lips to her father's cheek.

"Papa," Madeline whispered into his ear. "I saw the dancing ladies."

Erik chuckled. "You did?"

Christine moved over to her husband and daughter, kissing Erik lightly. "Yes, she did...and thank you _so _much for teaching her _that _particular phrase."

Madeline stroked the mask on her father's cheek. "Mama was crying again," she informed him.

Erik looked at Christine, concern filling his face. Christine lowered her eyes.

Erik placed Madeline onto her feet. "Dearest, the rose bushes are beginning to bloom," he told her gently. "Why don't you go pick a few for your mother?"

Madeline smiled, running from the room, her black tresses streaming out from behind her.

Erik gathered his wife into his arms. "Christine," he breathed into her ear. "What has happened?"

Christine allowed her tears to fall freely onto Erik's dark jacket. Erik cooed words of support into her ear, humming gently until her sobs subsided.

"Erik," she said, her voice shaky. "There is something you need to know."

Erik nodded, knowing by his wife's tone that something was terribly wrong.

Guilt struck a chord in his soul, wishing that he had accompanied Christine to the Opera Populaire.

When she had gotten the letter from Madame Giry asking her to pay a visit, she had been happy; excited at the prospect of seeing her beloved friends after so long. Erik had known Christine had missed the bonds she had made within the walls of the Opera Populaire. He knew that she wanted to present Madeline to the Giry women.

And while something within the depths of his mind warned him that the visit would not be altogether pleasant, he had obliged her wishes to go.

Simply because he loved her.

Christine licked her dry lips, taking in a deep breath. _Better to come out with it all at once_, she told herself.

"Erik, Raoul is alive."

She could feel his body tense. His arms, which had been running up and down her back as a means of comfort suddenly stopped.

She looked up at his face, at the darkness that had crept into his eyes.

"Are you certain?" Erik asked, his voice deep and cool.

Christine nodded, recounting her visit to the Opera Populaire. Erik listened, moving over to the large stained glass windows that allowed the sunlight to stream into the elaborate, beautifully decorated music room.

When she had finished, Christine sat on the velvet chaise lounge, exhausted.

Erik turned to face her.

"I cannot help but feel this is my fault," Christine said quietly. "Had I not been so cold to him...had I just tried to speak with him before things went so far..."

Erik moved next to her, allowing her to lean against him. "This is not your fault, my love," Erik said softly. "And whatever happens, we shall not allow this man to interfere with the life we have so carefully constructed."

"I'm frightened, Erik," Christine whispered. "I could not live if something happened to Madeline...to you."

"That is not even a remote possibility," Erik interjected. "We have survived worse, we shall survive this."

Christine looked up at him, a weak smile on her lips. He kissed her, allowing his tongue to sweep over hers, reveling in the desire she enticed within him, even after all this time.

"Ew," came a small voice from the music room's entrance. Erik pulled away from Christine, regarding his daughter who covered in mud and carrying a few long stemmed roses in her hand. "You are always _kissing_," she accused them.

Erik motioned for Madeline to join them on the chaise. The small child obliged, climbing between them, her small legs sticking straight out in front of her. She sighed, handing the roses to her mother.

The small family sat for several moments in quiet appreciation for each other.

"Mama?" Madeline addressed Christine after some time.

"Yes, dearest?"

"May I go back outside?"

Christine looked up at the large glass ceiling, observing the pinks and purples that were sweeping across the sky.

"It's getting late, darling," she replied, brushing a wayward lock of hair from her daughter's face. "Perhaps it is best you wait until tomorrow."

Madeline slid from the chaise, standing before her parents, her hands on her hips. "But I _have_ to go back outside," she protested, her eyes taking on the same darkness as her father's when he was angry.

"Whatever for?" Christine asked, unable to suppress a smile at her precocious child.

Madeline's eyes darted around the room. "It's...it's a secret," she said quietly.

Erik and Christine exchanged glances. "A secret?" Erik questioned. "What secret would you keep from us?"

Madeline bit her lip. "You can't tell anyone if I tell you," she bartered. Erik placed a hand over his heart.

"On my honor," he promised her.

Madeline leaned in towards them, placing one chubby hand on her father's knee and the other on her mother's. "The man with the white horse promised to bring me chocolate," she confided in a whisper, excitement to her tone.

Alarm flared within Christine's mind. "What man?" She asked her daughter.

Madeline rolled her eyes, non-plussed by details. "The man with no name, Mama. He rides up to our gates...I've seen him before...he looks so sad!"

Erik tensed. "Madeline, what have we told you about talking with strangers?" He asked, a scolding tone to his voice.

"He _isn't _a stranger," she insisted. "He's my friend and he's going to bring me chocolates!"

"Madeline," Christine said, pulling the girl towards her with a bit more urgency than she could control. "What does your 'friend' look like?"

Madeline considered the question. "He's tall. And his horse is big. And he has a boo-boo."

Christine's hands went to her mouth.

"What kind of boo-boo, Maddy?" Erik asked. Madeline placed her hand on her father's mask, a loving gesture.

"It's like yours, Papa, but he doesn't wear a mask. I told him that he should, that my Papa wears one and that I like it," she explained. "It's a bad boo-boo, Papa. It goes all the way down his face. It must have hurt badly."

Tears were streaming down Christine's pale face; she felt as if she might pass out. Madeline took notice.

"You're always _crying_," Madeline observed. "Are you sad like the man with no name?"

Erik drew his only child into his arms, looking over her small head to his wife.

They exchanged a knowing, dreadful glance.

It appeared Raoul was closer than they thought.


	5. Unsuspecting

**_I don't usually like stories with kids in them, but I adore writing Madeline. What do you guys think of her?_**

**_Enjoy!_**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

****

Raoul eased his horse to a slow, stammering trot as he approached the gates that separated himself and the animal from the mansion that was now Christine's home.

The home she shared with _him. _

Rage bubbled up in Raoul's stomach, a sensation he was beginning to get used to.

The long, deep scar that marred the right side of his face suddenly throbbed, as if reminding him that revenge was the only way he would completely heal.

The small child he had befriended was not in her usual place, waiting for him behind the impressive marble statues guarding the iron gates. He frowned. He had been certain she would be here, the promise of chocolates too enticing for a child her age.

Yet she was nowhere to be seen.

He eased his horse to a halt, keeping behind the large pine trees that shadowed him from any vantage point within the mansion.

Several glowing lights could be seen in the windows of the impressive structure.

They were home.

"Christine..." Raoul said, the name bitter on his lips. It had been years since he had seen her. He wasn't even certain if he loved her anymore; he only cared about the pain she had inflicted on him...

pain that he would make certain was passed back onto her threefold.

Music drew him from his thoughts...a painfully sweet tune accompanied by the voice of an angel.

_Her_ voice, Raoul realized.

The torment continued; the beautiful sounds merely enraging Raoul even more. She sang of love, of hope, of happiness.

All the things she had denied him.

Every once in a while, a child's giggle or the plunk of an errant piano key could be heard.

It seemed that young Madeline was with her parents, participating in their music in the only way a child was capable.

When Raoul had first encountered the young girl, playing in her expansive yard, completely lost in whatever nonsense she had created in her own mind, he had known she was Christine's child.

The child that should have been his, that should have had _his_ dirty blond locks instead of the black as midnight pitch that ran in thick wavy curls down her back.

He had expected the rage within his unsettled soul to boil over once more...he had waited for it...waited to feed off of it...

yet it never came. The small girl had taken note of him and bravely walked over to the gates, staring up at him with Christine's large brown eyes.

"Where did you get that horsey?" She had asked him, completely enamored with the beautiful white steed.

"My mother gave it to me," Raoul had lied, hoping the mention of his mother would make him seem less intimidating to the child.

And perhaps bring her to reveal more about her own mother.

Madeline reached a small hand out through the iron gates, trying to pet the animal. Raoul nudged the beast closer so the child could feel the softness of its fur.

Madeline looked back up at him. "You have a boo-boo like Papa," she observed.

Raoul's insides clenched.

"Yes, I do," he had replied. He listened as she prattled on about masks, about her father and his music.

"How did you get it?" Madeline asked.

"Where is your mother, child?" Raoul had said, ignoring her question. Madeline had pointed to the house.

"Inside, with Papa," she told Raoul. Then she paused, as if afraid to continue. "They're _kissing_," she whispered.

Madeline did not notice the fire blaze in Raoul's eyes.

He had seen her several times since, not knowing what it was about this child that enticed him so.

Perhaps it was because she looked so much like Christine.

Perhaps it was because he needed to see the product of _their_ love, if only to remind himself how cheated his own life had been.

Fire was again in his eyes now, as Raoul listened to the music that the Phantom of the Opera was surely regaling his family with.

Raoul unconsciously laid a hand on the heavy package at his side.

It was best to wait until they were all asleep, he thought to himself.

There would be less chance for an escape that way.

"Madeline!" Christine laughed, too enchanted by her daughter to allow her mind to travel to less happy thoughts. "You mustn't touch the piano while your father is playing...it throws him off!"

Madeline pouted, but only for a moment as she suddenly found herself swept up onto the piano bend beside Erik. "She can touch this piano all she wants," Erik said, taking his daughter hands and placing them in the correct positioning over the keys. "She shall be a marvelous composer some day."

"Or perhaps a singer," Christine suggested, her heart melting as she watched Erik lay his large hands over his daughter's small ones, guiding them into a playing a simple song.

"I want to be a dancing girl when I grow up," Madeline informed them.

Erik laughed.

"Erik!" Christine admonished. "Don't encourage that term! They are called Ballerinas, dearest," Christine told her daughter.

"Bal...balli.." Madeline stumbled over the pronunciation. Frustrated, she rolled her eyes again. She looked up at her father. "What's wrong with saying dancing girl?"

Laughing again, Erik picked up the small girl. "Nothing, darling. Your mother used to be a dancing girl."

Christine swatted Erik's arm. "Don't tell her that! The next time I bring her into town she's going to tell everyone that her mother is a dancing girl!"

Erik held Madeline in one arm and draped the other around Christine, heading to Madeline's large bedroom.

"Mama, you should be _proud_ you were a dancing girl," Madeline told her. "Like how Papa is proud he is a musicalician."

"Musician," Christine corrected her.

"Musician," Madeline repeated, yawning and placing her head on Erik's shoulder.

By the time the three reached her bedroom, Madeline was asleep. Erik laid her gently in the frilly folds of her child-sized bed, watching as the girl curled around her favorite stuffed bear.

They stood, looking down at her.

"She looks more like you each day," Erik said in a whisper. "Perhaps that is why I fall in love with her all over again each time I see her."

Christine pressed her lips to his, loving _him_ more than she ever thought she could.

Silently, she took his hand in her own, leading him to their bedroom several doors away.

They instantly fell into a series of passionate kisses; kisses that led them to the bed, and then to the stars.

Raoul smiled as the last light was extinguished in the mansion.

He would wait another hour before he carried out his mission.

Just one more hour.


	6. Escape From The Devil

**_Oh, the horror!_**

**_teehee! _**

**_I only make bad things happen to serve a purpose...you'll see after you read this..._**

**_Thanks again for the AWESOME reviews!_**

* * *

****

The Opera house was burning.

Christine ran through the narrow passageways, choking on the thick black smoke that was rapidly filling the structure.

"Erik!" She screamed, finding herself suddenly inside the chapel, the bright orange flames melting the stained glass windows.

She choked again on the smoke, her eyes clouding her vision.

"Christine!"

A voice was calling to her.

"Christine, wake up!"

Christine's eyes shot open.

The mansion was on fire.

"Erik, my god!" Christine sat straight up, frantically scrambling out of bed. "Where's Madeline, what's going on?"

"I'm right here, Mama!" Madeline cried, her little arms wrapped around Erik's right leg. "I'm scared Mama! Our house...it's on fire!"

"Christine, come now!" Erik ordered, pulling her to his side, scooping up a now crying Madeline into his arms.

The three ran from the master bedroom to the top of the stairs.

"My god!" Christine exclaimed, looking down the elaborate stone stairwell.

The entire ground level was consumed by flames.

"Erik, how is this possible?" Christine yelled over the roar of the fire. "It's all stone...the entire house is stone!"

Erik's eyes darted from his wife to the ground floor, his rage growing. "We have to get out of here," he replied, his voice a growl.

He grasped Christine's hand once more and led her down the hallway back towards the music room, holding Madeline tightly to his body.

The music room remained untouched by the flames, but Erik knew it was only a matter of time before that too was destroyed.

He closed the doors to the room behind him, handing Madeline to Christine.

"What are we going to do?" Christine demanded. Erik moved quickly towards one of the stained glass windows.

He looked to her but did not reply. Instead, he picked up his beloved piano bench with amazing strength.

Christine covered Madeline's ears as she realized what her husband was about to do.

With a cry of rage and determination, Erik heaved the bench at the window, shattering it into a million tiny pieces.

He moved quickly, grasping a blanket from the chaise lounge and placing it on the window, covering the sharp shards of glass that remained in the sill.

He leaned out, assessing the situation.

The window opening led to a particularly flat section of roof. Erik's eyes surveyed the area, looking for a way to the ground.

His insides clenched as he realized there was only one way down.

They were going to have to ease down the thin metal drainpipes.

"Christine," Erik called to her, motioning for her to come to the window. Christine obeyed, her eyes wide. "We must go down the drain pipes," he said.

"Erik..." Christine stammered. "How..how are we going to do that?"

"Carefully," he answered. "Madeline," he took his daughter from Christine. "You must be brave," he told her, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I want you to hold onto to my neck as tightly as possible...don't let go, no matter how frightened you become. Do you understand?"

Madeline nodded. "Papa," she said, forcing herself to stop crying. "What about your piano?"

Erik's heart wrenched as he squeezed the small child. She knew that the piano was his most prized possession, the center of many happy times for her father and mother. "Do not worry about the piano, Maddy," he said to her. "There will be others."

Madeline's lip quivered, saddened by the prospect of her father loosing the one non-living thing that meant the most to him.

A loud crack caused the three to turn and face the doors, which were now splitting and splintered underneath flames.

"Christine, you go first...now," Erik said. Christine nodded, lifting a bare foot over the windowsill. She eased herself down, dropping onto the roof carefully.

"Close your eyes, Maddy," he instructed. "This will all be over soon."

She obliged, squeezing her lids closed and grasping her father's neck tightly.

Erik moved swiftly, joining Christine on the roof.

Slowly, they moved to the drainage pipe, which, to Erik's dismay, was even thinner than it appeared several moments ago.

He knelt, pulling at the pipe, ensuring it was safely fastened to the structure.

"I shall go first," He said to Christine.

"Hold on tightly, Madeline!" She said, watching as the child's small arms tightened around Erik's neck.

Erik swung a well muscled led over the edge of the house, grasping the drainage pole between his hands.

He was used to such activities, having spent most of his life manipulating the ropes and rafters of his former home.

Once Erik was a few feet below her, Christine followed, holding herself to the pole tightly.

Slowly, painfully, the trio eased down the pole. Christine's arms were burning from the physical activity.

After what seemed like an eternity, Erik's feet found the grass.

Christine was still a bit above him. As she got closer, he pulled her from the pipe into his arms, holding her tightly, her hair fluttering about his face as his breath came heavily.

As soon as he put her down, she reached for Madeline.

Erik handed the child to her, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"Madeline," Christine cooed. "You can open your eyes."

Madeline cracked her right eye open just a bit.

They went wide as she looked up.

Smoke was billowing from the mansion. The flames had spread to the entire structure.

"We must move away," Erik said, hurrying Christine and Madeline a safe distance from the home.

When they stopped, Christine could not help the tears that began to stream down her face. She felt Erik's arm steal around her.

The three stood in silence, watching as the contents of their happy home were slowly destroyed by what looked like the devil himself.

* * *

Madame Giry pulled her dark robe over her night shift quickly.

Someone was banging on her door.

She placed a hand on the doorknob, about to turn it when she remembered her safety.

"Who's there?" She demanded.

"Madame Giry! It's Christine!"

The door flung open.

There, in the hallway stood Christine, Madeline, and Erik.

All in their nightclothes.

Mme Giry motioned them in quickly, lest someone spied Erik, whose white mask glinted against the soot that covered all three.

"I'm so sorry, Madame," Christine said, hurrying inside, holding Madeline tight to her chest. "We had no where else to go."

Madame Giry immediately grabbed blankets from her own bed, draping one around the shivering Christine and Madeline and handing the other to Erik, who nodded at her in appreciation.

"What has happened?" Madame Giry asked.

"Our home…there was a fire…" Christine managed, tears forming again.

"Dear God!" Madame Giry exclaimed. "How did it start?"

"It must have been set intentionally, Madame," Erik said. "Our home is made of stone; only a well-calculated plan involving chemicals could have created flames such as the ones we saw."

His eyes met hers knowingly.

"I understand," she said.

She moved closer to Madeline, smiling warmly.

"Hello again, dear child," she said, running a finger down a chubby cheek.

"Hi," Madeline managed.

"It appears you will be our guest for some time," she told the little girl. "At least until your home is repaired."

Madeline nodded. "Papa's piano got burned up," she told Madame Giry.

"Better the piano than you, Madeline," Madame Giry replied. She raised her eyes to Christine, placing a warm hand on her cheek.

"We will figure out the arrangements in the morning," she told the woman who was like a daughter to her. "For now, you three shall take my room; I will join Meg in hers."

Christine embraced Madame Giry with her free arm. "Thank you," she whispered.

Madame Giry moved over to Erik, who was looking anxious and uncomfortable within the walls of the Opera Populaire. "You needn't worry, Erik," Madame Giry told him. "I will ensure your presence is kept secret."

Erik relaxed slightly. "Thank you," he said. "For harboring me once again."

Madame Giry smiled. "It seems to be my lot in life," she replied.

* * *

Raoul watched from his hiding place behind the front gates as the mansion burned into the night.

He had not seen them escape.

He smiled, a warped expression that frightened even the horse he sat atop.

It had almost been too easy.

They were gone, dead…surely burning in hell for their sins.

The first part of his plan was complete.


	7. The Safest Place

**_Ah, Rooklyn…you clever, clever thing! You hit on some interesting ideas!_****_I had to put Erik and Christine back in the Opera House. It was just too tempting.The money issue will be addressed in the next chappie..._**

**_I just want to explain one thing that may not have come across in the last chapter. In my head, I was envisioning the escape happening at the rear of Erik's property. I should have clarified that. Raoul was stationed at the front gates…that is why he did not notice their escape._**

**_Ok...a somewhat happier chapter this time..._**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

****

Erik slid from Madame Giry's bed, careful not to wake his sleeping wife and daughter.

He moved to the large mirror at rear of Madame Giry's room, praying that the mechanism that would slid the mirror open leading to the passageways within the walls of the Opera still worked.

It did.

Silently, the mirror moved, allowing just enough space for Erik to move through.

The air in the narrow passage was familiar; almost soothing. It was a dankness he was used to; a smell he all at once hated and adored.

Such memories were swirling in his head as he made his way deeper and deeper into the Opera House!

He could hear Christine's clear voice, singing along with the notes of some godforsaken opera.

He could hear the clang of his sword meeting Raoul's all those years ago.

As he reached the large lake at the bottom of the structure, his heart wrenched as he remembered Christine's face as she rowed away with Raoul.

Erik pushed the thought from his mind. _She is yours,_ he mentally reminded himself. _Yours and no one else's. _

The last time he had returned to the area of the Opera Populaire that he had once called his home, it was in a terrible state of affairs.

This time was no different.

Even before the small boat he was rowing across the lake hit shore, he could see the disrepair…the result of a lack of human attention for the last seven years or so.

He stepped out of the boat, looking around slowly.

Why could he not escape this prison?

Why did he always find himself back here?

He sighed.

This was the safest place he knew of. He had managed to stay concealed within the boundaries of this lair for many years before Christine's voice dragged him towards the sunlight.

He rolled up his sleeves.

There was much work to be done.

* * *

Christine's eyes fluttered open.

For a moment, she remained still, trying to separate her sleeping thoughts from reality.

Her home was destroyed.

She was back at the Opera House.

Madeline was curled next to her, her little hands wrapped around her mother's arm.

Christine turned her head.

The bed was empty next to her.

She sat up quickly, accidentally waking Madeline.

"Mama…" she whined, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm here, darling…" She cooed. "Erik?" She called out, keeping her voice as low as possible.

"Papa left," Madeline informed her.

Christine snapped her head down to her young daughter. "Left? What do you mean, Maddy?"

Madeline yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "He went through the mirror," she said nonchalantly.

Christine looked over at the large mirror. "Oh, god, Erik…what are you thinking?" She said aloud.

"Maybe he went to get me some breakfast," Madeline offered. "My stomach is making angry noises. He probably heard it."

Christine smiled. How simple the world of a child was! How basic!

Suddenly, the mirror slid back open.

Erik entered the room, looking tired and dirty.

"Papa!" Madeline exclaimed, accidentally kicking Christine in her hurry to climb out of bed and into her father's arms.

"Good morning, Maddy," Erik said, stooping down to receive his daughter's hug.

"Papa…you didn't sing me a morning song," she accused, pouting out her bottom lip. "And Mama moved in the bed and woke me up." She tattled.

Erik smiled, smoothing his daughter's hair away from her still sleepy-looking face.

"I do apologize, Madeline," he offered, straightening up. "But I have a surprise for you to make up for it."

Madeline turned to face Christine, who had gotten out of bed and was standing behind her.

"Erik, what were you doing?" She asked.

Erik placed a finger to his lips, his tired eyes glinting just a bit. He took Madeline's hand in his and offered the other to Christine.

"Come," he said. "Come and see."

"Are we going in the mirror, Papa?" Madeline asked excitedly as Christine took her husband's hand.

"Yes, darling, we are," Erik replied. "It's an adventure."

He slid the mirror back open and allowed Christine entrance first.

He began to follow when he noticed Madeline had stopped walking.

"Papa…" she said, her eyes peering into the darkness warily.

"It's alright, love," he said, pulling her up into his arms.

"Your father wouldn't let anything happen to us," Christine added. "Although, I must say, I'm not thrilled about making this trip again."

"Again?" Madeline asked.

Erik and Christine exchanged a small smile.

Madeline remained quiet until the trio reached the icy lake.

"Oooh!" She exclaimed, wriggling down from her father's grasp. "Mama! Look! It's for swimming!"

Christine caught her by the collar of her small nightgown. "Oh no," she said. "This lake is most definitely _not_ for swimming."

"Madeline, come here," Erik said, motioning to the small boat.

"A boat!" The child exclaimed. "I've never been in a boat!"

Erik smiled, happy that Madeline had a sense of adventure, and that the events of the night before had not sullied her temperament.

He lifted her into the rowboat and then helped Christine inside. Finally, he joined them, covering them with a blanket that lay in the bottom of the small vessel.

"I'm the captain!" Madeline said, jumping excitedly, causing the boat to sway dangerously.

"Sit down, captain," Erik ordered. "Otherwise this lake _will _be for swimming."

Madeline sat, but still bounced as her father rowed slowly across the lake.

Christine's eyes widened as they drew closer to where she knew Erik's home used to be.

As the large iron gates lifted to allow them access, she placed a hand to her lips.

"Look," Madeline breathed. "It's so beautiful!"

Indeed, it was beautiful.

Dozens of candles illuminated the lair. She noticed that Erik had placed them out of Madeline's reach.

They shone a soft glow on the area.

Christine drank in the sight.

Everything had been cleaned, furniture returned to its correct place. Christine could see the black sheer curtains that separated Erik's old bedroom from the rest of the home.

It looked almost as it had so many years ago.

"How did you…how did you do this?" Christine asked, her voice hushed.

Erik climbed ashore, offering his hand to help Christine out. "I've been busy," he replied.

She looked into his eyes, feeling as if she were back in time, back to the day when he had first brought her here…

To the day she had fallen in love with him.

He brought his lips down onto hers, a simple, loving gesture.

"Get me outta here!" Madeline interrupted, stomping her tiny foot inside of the boat and then falling onto her bottom in the boat from the resulting sway.

Erik smiled, reaching his arms out to his daughter, who jumped into them happily.

The moment her stockinged feet touched the ground, she was off, inspecting the area.

Christine made a movement to follow her, but Erik stopped her. "She'll be alright," he said softly.

"Look! A kitchen!" Madeline said excitedly, running about the surprisingly large living quarters. "And a bed! A big bed with…" She looked at the black satin sheets. "Black blankies." She finished, raising an eyebrow at her father. "I like pink," she informed him.

"Erik, when did you do all this? How did you put this together?" Christine asked.

"One I've learned is that the Opera Populaire is wasteful," he told her, placing a thickly muscled arm around her waist. "Most of what made this place so glorious came from the costume rooms…the prop storage…" he placed a kiss at Christine's temple, "and so it has once again."

Christine nodded, suddenly recognizing old fabrics and furniture from past productions.

"Of course, it is not finished yet…I shall have to procure us more items," he said, moving towards the empty space where a piano once sat.

He looked back to Christine, who was biting her thumbnail again.

"It isn't forever, Christine," he informed her. "Just until…things…are straightened out."

"I like it here," Madeline announced. "I like the lake and the candles. I want to stay."

Erik smiled. "And so you shall," he said. "For a little while."

He watched as Christine moved to wipe a smudge of dirt from Madeline's protesting face.

"Come," he told them. "There is much to be done." He lifted Madeline into his arms. "I'm certain Meg and her mother will be able to find you both something to change into…and I believe a bath is in order for someone."

"Yes, Mama," Madeline scolded. "You are very dirty."

"I was speaking of you, my angel," Erik told Madeline.

She looked at him, rubbing his exposed cheek. "Did you bring me here to become a dancing lady?" She asked him innocently.

Christine looked at Erik. "Wonderful," she sighed, ignoring her husband's laugh as they moved back towards the boat.


	8. Short and Long Term Planning

**_Thanks for the reviews! They make my day!_**

**_I tried to address some of the questions I've gotten in this chapter. It seems that my story needed some clarifications. Hopefully, this chapter will sort everything out. _**

**_Enjoy!_**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

****

"You should get some rest," Christine told Erik as she quietly re-entered Madame Giry's bedroom.

Erik looked up at her from the desk he was sitting at, scribbling a letter furiously. "Where is Madeline?" He asked her.

"With Meg," Christine replied, moving towards her husband. "She wanted to see another rehearsal; Meg wanted to take her."

Erik finished his note, signing it with a flourish and folding it carefully. He laid the quill over top of the note and stood, motioning for Christine to come into his arms.

She obliged, resting her head against Erik's steady heartbeat. "What are you planning, Erik?" She asked, her voice muffled.

Erik rested his chin atop Christine's head. "Much, actually," he confided. "I had contemplated having you contact the police, but, given my circumstances, I'm not quite ready to have our family the subject of authoritative scrutiny."

Christine nodded slowly. Although she knew her husband was an honorable, kind man, his past suggested otherwise.

And the police would be quick to remind him of that.

"My first order of business is to restore the underground sanctuary to a suitable living place for you, Madeline and myself," he continued. "As quickly as possible."

He moved away from her then, sorting through paperwork on one of Madame Giry's desks. It appeared that while Christine and Madeline had bathed and been outfitted in suitable attire, Erik had been busy.

"I will need your help, Christine," Erik informed her. "You must go into town."

Christine nodded.

"Madame Giry has already procured a large carriage for your use today, and has given Meg permission to accompany you." He handed her the note he had just completed. "You are to meet with my accountant."

"You mean Xavier?" Christine asked, taking the note from him. Erik nodded.

"Yes. He will be expecting you. He will accompany you today as well, as the rest of your errands will involve purchases. As you already know, Xavier is a confident. I trust him implicitly."

Christine smiled. She liked Xavier. Apparently, he had befriended Erik not long after the fire that almost destroyed the opera house seven years ago.

He was an honest, good man that maintained Erik's finances perfectly, and was compensated generously.

"I have compiled a detailed list of provisions within this letter," Erik continued. "Some you shall take with you in the carriage and bring back to the Opera House, some will be delivered. Remind Xavier that money is no object when it comes to the delivered items, some of which will be quite large."

Christine nodded, thankful that Erik had managed to squirrel away a great fortune while living within the Opera Populaire.

"This is important, Christine," Erik said. "Meg is not accompanying you simply for comfort. I have spoken with Madame Giry. Meg shall sign for any purchase that is to be delivered to the Opera Populaire, Xavier for the rest. At no time shall you place your name to paper," he instructed. "No record of you, myself, or Madeline will be made available to the public."

"Alright," Christine agreed, constantly amazed by her husband's intelligence; his ability to solve almost any problem. "Erik," she said quietly, "What about..."

She couldn't bring herself to speak Raoul's name.

Erik nodded. "I assume he believes us to be dead," he said, his voice cold. "Which may be for the best. I also assume that he has not carried out all the facets of his plan. From what you've told me about his association with Madame Giry and his continued patronage to the Opera Populaire, it is almost certain we shall be closer to him than I would like."

Goosebumps rose on Christine's skin. She shivered.

Erik noticed and stood before her, rubbing the cold from her arms.

"However, I take solace in the fact that I am in a place that I could manipulate with my eyes closed," he continued, his voice encouraging. "And if you remember, the last time he made it as far as the lair, it almost cost him his life," he added softly.

Christine remained silent and her heart wrenched as she remembered rowing away with Raoul that night so long ago.

"While we are here, I shall work as quickly as possible to relocate us to a suitable home," Erik continued.

"Relocate?" Christine asked.

"If he knew where we were, others would soon discover us. We must move; away from here, possibly even out of France altogether," he added.

"Leave France?" Christine whispered; the idea hadn't even occurred to her.

Erik pulled her into his arms once more, tipping her mouth to his. He kissed her deeply, tasting her for several minutes. He pulled away, smiling as she opened her eyes slowly, her breathing altered.

"I feel like I just agreed to something," she whispered, smiling back at him. "How is it that you still have this power over me?"

"It's a gift," he replied.

Suddenly the door to Madame Giry's bedroom flung open. Madeline hurried in, Meg following, laughing at the child.

"Madeline! What are you wearing?" Christine asked. Madeline placed her hands on her hips, spinning around. A too-large tutu had been fastened to her waist, a bright pink-feathered boa draped around her shoulders.

A smear of red lipstick was on her tiny lips.

"Look!" Madeline said, smiling widely. "I'm the star! I'm Carlodda!"

"Heaven forbid!" Meg exclaimed. "Maddy, show your parents what I taught you."

Madeline nodded, moving her tiny feet into first position. She took a deep breath and began to sing in a soft, surprisingly on-pitch tone.

"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we say bye-bye! Remember me once in a while, please...please..." She stopped, biting her lip and looking at Meg.

"Please promise me you'll try," Christine said, her voice tight in her throat.

Madeline smiled. "Meggie said you'd remember that song! Now we can sing together, Mama!"

Christine stooped down, wiping the lipstick from her daughter's mouth. "Yes we can," she said. "Although I will ask that you wait to wear lipstick for at least a few more years."

"Al-_right,_" Madeline relented, hurrying over to the mirror to be certain that she still looked wonderful, even without the lipstick.

"I'm sorry, Christine, she begged me," Meg said, smiling, although her eyes had been on Erik the entire time. "I love her already."

"It's alright," Christine said, seeing the nervousness in Meg's eyes.

It suddenly dawned on her that Meg had never met Erik before.

"Meg," Christine said softly, extending her hand to her friend. "Please allow me to introduce you to my husband, Erik."

Meg's eyes were wide as she looked at the large man before her. She dropped into a curtsey.

"Please, Mademoiselle," Erik said, nervousness in his voice as well. "You are practically family."

Christine beamed at her husband.

He took Meg's hand and lay a light kiss on the back. "I am pleased to finally meet you. I apologize for Christine's long absence from you."

Meg smiled, her fear immediately dissipating. This was not the Phantom of the Opera she had painted in her mind. "I understand, Sir," she said. "You've made her very happy."

"I hope so," Erik replied.

Meg looked to Christine. "Are you ready to leave, Christine? The carriage is being drawn as we speak."

Christine nodded, pulling the cloak Madame Giry had given her from the small closet she had been allotted. "Shall I bring Madeline?" She asked Erik.

"No, Madeline will stay here with Madame Giry," Erik replied. "She is looking forward to spending some time with her."

"Where are you going, Mama?" Madeline asked, pushing her way in the middle of the adults.

"Into town, just for a little while," she told her daughter. "I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time with Madame Giry."

"Are you going too, Papa?" Madeline asked.

"No, child. I'll be close by," he replied.

Seemingly satisfied with the answers she received, Madeline nodded. "Does your Mama have chocolates?" She asked Meg.

"Chocolates? She might..." Meg replied. "Why do you ask?"

Madeline looked at her parents. " I was _supposed_ to get chocolates before I came here," she informed Meg.

Christine's stomach rolled as she realized who was supposed to give her daughter those chocolates.

"You'll have to ask my Mother," Meg told her. "But I have iton good authority that she has a secret candy stash somewhere," she added in a whisper. "Come, I'll bring you to her while your Mama gets ready."

Madeline's eyes lit up as she grabbed Meg's hand. "Bye-bye, Mama! Bring me back a present!"

Christine shook her head as she watched the pair leave. She turned to Erik.

"Be careful," Erik instructed, his face serious. "You must return to me."

Christine wrapped her arms around his neck. "Always," she replied, kissing him.

* * *

Raoul's heart was slamming against his chest.

"Driver!" He yelled through the open window of his elaborate carriage. "Get me closer to the entrance of the Opera Populaire!"

The driver obeyed, moving the carriage slowly.

Darkness invaded Raoul's heart as he watched the woman following Meg Giry to the large awaiting carriage.

Although her hood was partially obscuring her face, Raoul could recognize her from the sway in her walk, the curve of her lip, the shape of her body.

Christine.

His fist landed fiercely on his own leg in frustration.

She lived.


	9. The Perfect Opportunity To Strike

**_Sorry, no update over the weekend...things were...ahem...busy..._**

**_A couple of things...It seems Madeline now has a full time babysitter...I don't envy your task!_**

**_I don't know if they had insurance back in the days of the Opera Populaire, but let's pretend they did, ok?_**

**_This is a short chap, but there will be another today. Don't worry:)_**

**_Enjoy..._**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

"It's a miracle we managed to fit ourselves back into this carriage!" Meg exclaimed, her knees brought up to her chest to make room for a particularly odd shaped package resting on the carriage floor.

Christine pulled her bonnet from her head, wincing as it caught on several pieces of hair that had come undone during the long day spent shopping. "Do you think Xavier minded having to hail his own carriage back home?" She asked, feeling terrible that the elderly man could not fit in the carriage after their last stop at the music shop.

Meg shook her head. "No, I don't believe he did," she replied, leaning back onto the cushion of the carriage seat. "He seemed pleased to call it a day."

Christine smiled, briefly closing her eyes. Xavier had been an incredible help, leading Christine and Meg into and out of some of the finest shops lying on the outskirts of Paris. He involved the women in the decision-making processes, and quickly signed his name to bill after bill.

Christine had never worried about money, knowing that Erik was already a rich man before she met him. She had also come to learn that he had taken out insurance on destroyed mansion…insurance, which had thankfully covered fire damage.

The carriage, driven by one of the more quiet employees of the Opera Populaire, bounced soothingly along the back roads leading to the Opera House. They maneuvered through alleyway after alleyway; so deep within the streets of Paris that Christine no longer recognized her surroundings.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped.

"Meg?" Christine said after some time.

Meg shifted, her sleeping eyes fluttering open. "Yes? Are we back?" She asked, rubbing her eyes.

Christine shook her head. "I don't believe so. " She peered out of the small curtained carriage window. "I don't know where we are."

Meg looked out of her window. "It looks like we're in an alley," she said. "Perhaps the driver is lost."

The women sat in silence for a moment, straining to hear a conversation or the presence of another person.

Silence.

"Well, we can't sit here all night," Christine said, frustrated and tired. She placed a hand on the lever to open the carriage door.

"Wait," Meg said suddenly. "Perhaps we should stay inside."

Christine paused. Maybe she was right.

There were dangerous people about.

As she pulled her hand away, the door flung open.

A grisly looking man stood before her, his mouth brown from the effect of raw tobacco.

Christine and Meg shrieked in unison, moving as far back into the carriage as the overstuffed enclosure allowed.

"Ladies, ladies," the man drooled, his lips curving into a strange sort of smile. " 'ave no fear," he added in a crude accent. Then, looking from Meg to Christine, he added, "Well, you can 'ave some fear," he said to Christine, grasping her wrist and pulling her towards him with a greasy hand.

Christine winced and pulled away, finding that her strength was no match for this stranger before her.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"Let go of her!" Meg shouted at the same time.

"If you wait a minute, all will be revealed, my lovely," he said to Christine, yanking her roughly from the carriage. Meg started to follow, grasping the first weapon within her reach, which happened to be a violin bow.

She held in menacingly as she moved to the carriage door, only to have it slammed and locked in her face, separating her from her friend.

"Driver!" The dirty man yelled, pinning Christine's small form against his own, covering her protesting mouth with his hand. "Bring Mademoiselle Giry back to the Opera Populaire…and send her with this message…"

Christine looked up to the nervous driver, who was sitting beside another even dirtier man, who was holding a rusty-looking pistol to the driver's head.

The grizzled man holding Christine turned to face Meg, who was watching the scene nervously from inside of the carriage. "Tell the man who calls himself husband to this woman that if he ever wants to see her alive again, he will come to the cemetery at midnight," the man said, sounding very much like he had memorized the directions. "If he does not show, we will kill her."

Christine's eyes went wide and she struggled again, watching as the man holding her directed the carriage onward, leaving Meg to bang on the carriage windows in vain, hoping Christine could hear her promises that she would be all right.

She watched as the man holding Christine disappeared into an alley, dragging Christine with him.


	10. Madame Giry's Plan

**_See? I promised you there would be another chapter..._**

**_I am in need of some pity, my dear readers. It seems I have broken my darn foot._**

**_I blame Raoul. _**

**_Lucky for all of you, this will meanI'll be high on painkillers andprolly writing a lot. _**

**_Anywhoooo...Enjoy!_**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

The carriage was still rolling as Meg opened the door, leaping onto the cobblestones in front of the Opera Populaire.

"Henry, bring the carriage around back!" She called over her shoulder to the now shaking driver.

She lifted her skirts, not caring for modesty at the moment, and ran inside of the Opera, nearly knocking over several innocent bystanders in the process.

Meg's muscular legs pumped as she maneuvered through the Opera House, frantically running towards her mother's quarters. Her breath burned in her chest, but she continued until she reached the heavy oak door, flinging it open without knocking.

Erik was instantly on his feet, standing in front of Madeline, who had been on the floor assembling what looked to be small blocks.

Madame Giry was also present, sitting in a chaise lounge watching the little girl play.

"Meg!" She exclaimed, jumping up as her daughter burst in the room. "What happened?"

"Where's Christine?" Erik asked simultaneously.

Meg looked nervously down at Madeline, who was watching her with wide eyes. "Er…Erik," she stammered. "Mother…something…something terrible…"

"Madeline," Erik said, his voice low. "Please go in the other room," he said, indicating the small dressing room that was attached to Madame Giry's living quarters.

Madeline, sensing her father's tone, got up obediently, moving slowly towards the dressing room, all the while keeping her eyes on Meg.

"Meg," Madame Giry said as Erik closed the dressing room doors behind his daughter. "What has happened?"

Erik approached Meg, who all at once fell into his arms, weeping. "Someone took her," she said, feeling Erik's arms tense around her. "They stopped the carriage…held a gun to Henry's head…and they took her!"

"Who took her?" Erik demanded, holding the crying Meg at arm's length. "Who was it?"

"I'm sure I don't know, Sir," Meg said. "I've never seen these men before. They were dirty, certainly not to be trusted."

"Where did they take her?" Erik demanded, unable to keep the anger from his tone.

Meg shook her head, lifting her wet lids to Erik. "They disappeared into an alley…I tried to stop them, but they locked me inside of the carriage!"

"Did they not say anything?" Madame Giry asked, smoothing her daughter's hair, trying to comfort her.

Meg nodded. "They did," she whispered, looking at Erik. "They said if you do not go to the cemetery at midnight then…then…" her voice broke again, "then they will kill Christine."

Erik moved swiftly, draping his dark cloak about his shoulders.

"Where are you going?" Madame Giry asked.

"To find her, dammit!" Erik replied, moving towards the door. Madame Giry moved quickly and slammed the door shut, just as Erik had opened it. "Move," he growled.

"It is daylight, Monsieur," Madame Giry replied loudly. "What good will you do her once you've been sighted and brought in by the police?"

Erik contemplated this. She was right. It would be unfair to Madeline if both her parents were suddenly gone.

"We must do something," Erik said, his voice loud. "We know who is behind this…"

Madame Giry nodded. "Yes, we do," she relented, sounding as if she had a plan.

Erik raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What do you suggest, Madame?"

"We shall play his game, arrive at the cemetery…but remember, we hold the ace," she said, speaking quickly over Meg's sound of protest. "Wherever he is, Christine is sure to be close by."

"We have no army, Madame," Erik informed her somewhat tersely.

Madame Giry smiled. "Perhaps we are not in need of an army, Monsieur."

She moved gracefully over to a locked cabinet. Producing the keys from somewhere inside of her voluminous skirts, she unlocked the cabinet, pulling out and opening a small mahogany box.

With amazing skill, Madame Giry pulled the small revolver from the box, arming it quickly.

"Mother!" Meg exclaimed. "Where did you get that?"

"It was a gift," Madame Giry replied, ensuring that the safety was in place.

Erik's eyes were wide, watching the woman's movements.

"It has never been used," Madame Giry continued. "It is a shame…such a lovely piece, don't you think?"

"Madame, are you implying that you may have found a use for this weapon?" Erik asked, impressed by the woman's handling of the gun.

Madame Giry tucked the gun within the velvet sash at her waist. "I would like to think that my late husband did not waste his time in teaching me the correct way to handle this revolver," she replied. "There are wrongs that need to be righted, Monsieur…wrongs against my family and yours."

Erik nodded once, catching her meaning.

"I shall come with you tonight," Madame Giry announced. "And together, we shall end this once and for all."


	11. A Twist of Intentions

**_Thanks for the reviews!_**

**_For those of you who aren't getting the "dancing girl" thing...back in the day, a "dancing girl" was a euphamism for "prostitute." Think Moulin Rouge. It was basically a nice way of saying "whore." The joke actually stems from something my little sister said as a child. (I'm 10 yrs older than her.) When she was about 5, she used to call fishermen "hookers." When we came to America, we learned quickly that a hooker is an entirely different profession around here. _**

**_Ok...here we go..._**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

****

A chill rolled down Erik's spine as the carriage carrying himself and Madame Giry came to a halt outside the impressive cemetery gates.

He hadn't been here since before Madeline was born.

Madame Giry looked over to the cloaked man sitting next to her. His eyes were smudged with dark circles. His hands were tense on his knees.

He was a man at his wit's end.

Mme Giry patted one of Erik's hands reassuringly.

The carriage door opened, allowing Erik and Madame Giry to exit into the darkness of the night, moving silently through the gates, their footsteps muted against the soft ground.

Erik's sword was drawn.

"Patience," Madame Giry murmured. "We mustn't run blindly into the lion pit, Monsieur."

Erik ignored her, prepared to kill anyone that came between him and Christine.

They walked until they reached a crossroads of sorts. They stood in the middle of the cemetery, at the intersection of two thick paths.

From here, Erik had the advantage of being able to see anyone approaching within 100 feet.

They stood in anticipatory silence for what seemed like an eternity.

Alarm began to flare within Erik's mind.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

He was beginning to feel as if….

"It's a trap!"

Erik and Madame Giry turned to the sound of the voice.

Christine was running towards them.

Her hair was messed.

She was wearing only the thin white shift from underneath her traveling gown.

Bruises speckled her face, arms, and neck.

Erik ran to meet her, enveloping her in his arms, holding her tightly, unable to prevent the tears that began to flow onto the crown of her soft brown curls.

"I thought I had lost you…my angel…my love…my only…" Erik said mid

"Erik," Christine was saying, pulling from his grasp to better look at him. "Erik…where's Madeline?"

"She is with Meg," Madame Giry said quickly, her eyes growing wide as she realized the implication of Christine's question.

Christine collapsed against Erik once more, her body heaving sobs.

"Christine…Christine…speak to me…what happened….what about Madeline?"

Christine lifted her head slowly. "They lured you here," she wailed. "He plans to take Madeline," she managed, her heart breaking.

"Who?" Erik demanded. "Tell me who and I swear I will kill them…"

"It's Raoul; I know it is," Christine sobbed as Erik wrapped his cloak about her shoulders.

"Did you see him, child?" Madame Giry asked. Christine shook her head.

"He sent men he hired after me; they were the ones who detained me long enough to get you away from Maddy," she explained.

"Then they must be nearby," Erik said, drawing his sword again.

Christine stopped him with a weak hand. "They were on horseback…they threw me to the ground some time ago, telling me to wait here for you…" she inhaled deeply, trying to control the sobs that were disrupting her breathing. "They were laughing Erik, laughing at me, at you…just as they left, they called to me, telling me that Madeline was right where they wanted her…right where they could get to her…oh God Erik! Raoul will take her…he will take her to punish us!"

Erik pulled his wife back into his arms, lifting her easily off her feet, holding her close to his chest.

He looked to Madame Giry whose face was white. "I should have known, Monsieur, I acted rashly…we shouldn't have come…"

"We haven't the time for blame," Erik said tersely, making his way back to the waiting carriage. "We must return."

* * *

Meg Giry held Madeline close to her chest, soothing the little girl's sobs with comforting words, even though Meg herself was close to hysteria.

"What do you want with us," She asked Raoul, who was sitting across from them, his mouth curved into a sickening smile.

"Have you ever played chess, Meg?" He asked, his eyes frighteningly stoic.

Meg did not reply, but continued to smooth Madeline's hair.

"The pawn is an interesting game piece," Raoul continued. "When you have confronted and captured the pawn, victory is that much closer…and sweeter."

Meg furrowed her brow. "Where is Christine?"

"Did I not tell you?" Raoul asked, knowing very well that he had not said anything since abducting Meg and Madeline. "I have let her go…I have decided that the grief of missing her child should be something she should live with for a while before we end this little play."

Madeline turned to face Raoul for the first time since he had burst into Madame Giry's living quarters, roughly pulling the child from Meg's grasp.

Her eyes went wide as she recognized him.

"You're the sad man with no name," she identified him. Raoul smiled.

"Such a clever thing," he remarked. "It's almost unbelievable that you are half freak," he commented.

Madeline's eyes darkened. "I am _not_ a freak," she informed him. "And you are a very bad man."

Raoul scoffed. "Children have no idea of where true evil lies," he commented.

"My papa is going to kill you," she said slowly, meaning every word.

The tone of the small child's voice sent a tinge of fear down Raoul's spine.

The fear immediately ebbed and turned into anger.

He leaned into Madeline, grasping her chin roughly. "Shut your mouth," he told her roughly. "You see, what your parents may not have told you is that I have bested your father before. He is a weak, insignificant man…and your mother is the _whore_ that chose him over me."

Meg pulled Madeline from Raoul's grasp. "God in heaven," she breathed, covering Madeline's ears. "She is a _child_, Raoul!"

Raoul leaned back against the cushioned carriage. "She is not too young to learn the truth," he replied.

Madeline pulled her head from Meg's grasp. "My mama will _never _choose you for _anything_," she told him. "And I know why."

Raoul's eyes narrowed.

Madeline smiled, knowing…even at her young age…that the man before her was weaker than anyone she knew.

She had lived with her father long enough to know what to say to people to manipulate them.

"Do you want to know why?" She pressed.

"Shut up," Raoul commanded lowly.

"It's because you are an ugly, selfish, _stupid _man!" She finished triumphantly.

Raoul balled his fists.

"I hope you enjoyed that, Madeline," he said, his voice a near growl. "For it very may well be the last insults you are alive to speak."


	12. What Christine Must Do

**_Oh boy. Raoul's real evil, huh?_**

**_Let's see what everyone is gonna do about it..._**

****

**_-Nico_**

* * *

"She must be so frightened," Christine said, her head resting on Erik's chest.

Erik tightened his grasp on her, kissing her forehead. "She is a brave girl," he replied. "She will be all right."

He sounded as if he meant to convince himself rather than the woman he held.

Erik closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, recounting recent events and revelations.

Erik, Christine, and Madame Giry had held fast to the possibility that Madeline was safe, still with Meg. They had prayed silently that they would open the doors to Madame Giry's chambers to reveal the two playing contentedly.

Instead, they found an empty room.

And a sealed white envelope resting on Madame Giry's desk.

Erik had ripped the envelope open with a fury in his eyes Christine had not seen in ages.

Christine had watched as the fury turned to rage.

"It is addressed to you," he said, his jaw clenched. Christine took the letter with a shaking hand.

_My darling Christine,_

_My men would like to thank you for your company last night. They rather enjoyed your presence. _

_I assume it would be redundant of me to give the whereabouts of your daughter and the Giry girl, as you have always been a woman of exceptional intelligence and have no doubt realized they are with me. _

_And shall remain with me until you come to a decision. _

_It seems, dear Christine, that you have been given yet another opportunity to make the correct choice. _

_We were meant to be together, Christine. In time, you will come to realize this as well. The man you have selected as your husband, as the father of your child, is not a man at all but a beast who will surely destroy you at the first opportunity. _

_Think about this, my dear. Think about Joseph Buquet. Would you subject your own child to such instability? I think not._

_Do not attempt to locate Madeline or myself. I will kill Meg at the first indication of police, avengers, or the rag-tag army your husband is no doubt contemplating organizing into action. _

_You have until tomorrow night to decide. Agree to be mine, to live with me, to love me with every ounce of your soul. We shall raise Madeline appropriately, as I am certain she is in dire need of a secure father figure. _

_You will meet me on the roof tomorrow night…alone…with your decision. _

_No tricks. No deception. I will be prepared to end a life should I feel threatened in the least. _

_Until then,_

_RC_

Christine had crumpled the paper, sobs once again racking her body.

Now, several hours later, Erik and Christine lay on the old pewter swan bed deep within the stomach of the Opera House at a complete loss of energy, happiness, or options.

Christine's fingertips worked the silk of Erik's shirt, feeling as if she might die.

"I shall have to go with him," she said softly.

"That is out of the question," Erik answered, his tone sharp. Christine lifted her head.

"If I refuse, he will kill Madeline and Meg. I know it, Erik. He is out of his mind."

Erik's jaw clenched again.

"I can deceive him, I can make him think I have accepted my fate…at least then I can be certain Madeline is safe," she continued.

"And what of me, my love? Am I resorted to remain here? Is this _my_ fate?" Erik demanded, getting up out of the bed, running his fingers through his black hair.

"Of course not," Christine said. "I love you, Erik. I promised to always love you. I always shall…" She began to cry again, her emotions uncontrollable. "I will demand he allow Meg to return to the Opera," she said, sounding as if she was formulating a plan. "And then, once I have convinced him of my 'love' for him, I will take Madeline and we will escape…leave Paris once and for all…"

Erik turned to face his wife.

She sat up in the bed, her body worn and bruised from her ordeal. And yet, her eyes were determined; strong.

He returned to her side, sitting on the bed and placing a large hand on her cheek and touching his forehead to hers.

"I love you," he whispered, tears forming on his own eyes. "I cannot bear to think of you with him, in his home…with my child…even if it is an act."

"Erik," Christine cooed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's just for a little while…only a little while…we haven't another choice…we haven't…"

The two fell into an embrace, weeping for the loss of their child and the realization of what had to be done.

* * *

"I don't _like_ this," Madeline announced, dropping the pieces of bread and cheese Raoul had given her onto the floor.

Meg, despite her situation, had to stifle a smile at the four year old.

Raoul placed a hand to his temple, trying to sooth the tension in his head. "Well," he said, his voice tight. "What _do_ you like?"

Madeline sat back in the high-backed chair at Raoul's table. She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair, looking very much like an impatient Carlotta.

"I like potatoes," she informed him. "And chocolate."

"Well, we are not _having_ potatoes or chocolate," Raoul told her. "So if you do not eat what I have so _generously _given you, you can simply go hungry." He pulled Madeline's now empty plate away from her.

Madeline's lips puckered.

Her brow furrowed.

Her face wrinkled.

And suddenly, she let loose a shriek that could have broken glass.

"God in heaven, shut her up!" Raoul told Meg, placing his hands over his ears as Madeline progressed into a full-fledged tantrum.

Meg looked at him. "She will tire soon, Sir," she told him, placing another bit of cheese into her mouth.

Madeline slumped off the chair and onto the floor, now adding the thump of her kicking heels against the floor to the outburst.

"What's _wrong _with her?" Raoul demanded, his eyes wide as he peered down at the little girl on the floor.

Meg glanced at Madeline. "She's four," Meg informed Raoul. "This is what four-year-olds do when they don't get what they want."

"Madeline! Stop this!" Raoul yelled over the noise the child was making.

Madeline quieted suddenly, drawing her sweaty self onto her feet.

"I will _not_!" She announced, stamping her foot and placing her hands on her hips. "I want my mama and my papa!" She wailed, running to Meg.

Meg pulled her into her arms, comforting the sobs racking the small child's body.

Raoul moved out of the room to get away from the piercing sounds of Madeline's cries.

Perhaps he was not as ready for fatherhood as he thought.


	13. The Roof

**_I truly enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope it gets you guys excited for the next chap. _**

**_Some racy stuff in this one...not too bad, but some sexual references. Mind the rating!_**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

The wind whipped through Christine's hair as she stood on the roof.

Her cape flared and lowered, carried on the surprisingly strong air current.

A shiver eased through her body…the slow, painful type.

Suddenly, the Opera Populaire didn't seem such a comforting place.

She exhaled, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do.

Before long, she heard footsteps.

A dark figure emerged from the shadows.

Fear ripple through Christine's body, even though she knew Erik was watching close by.

She saw the scar first; it was if even the moonlight was against her; it was mocking her by illuminating the one thing about Raoul she felt guilty over.

His head was bowed, his long dark duster floating about his ankles as he made his slow procession towards her.

He looked menacing; evil.

Christine swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

"Hello, Raoul," she said, forcing her voice to sound strong and cool.

Raoul lifted his head as if surprised by the greeting.

"Christine," he breathed, his voice saturated with emotions Christine could not identify.

"Where is Madeline," Christine countered, her hands balled into fists at her side.

Raoul rolled his eyes. "She is with Meg back at my estate, no doubt tracking mud across yet another one of my Persian carpets."

Christine smiled inwardly, pleased to hear that Madeline was giving Raoul a difficult time.

"Truly, Christine. It is a blessing I have come into her life," Raoul continued. "It is high time that child learned some manners."

Christine stared at him darkly.

"Of course, the details of my parenting are dependent on something," he remarked, casually pulling at a black glove. "I trust you have come to a decision?"

Christine nodded. "I have," she replied, hoping that she was the only one who heard Erik's sharp intake of breath.

Apparently she was.

"And that decision would be…" Raoul prompted, sounding overly eager.

"I shall come with you, under one condition," Christine answered, feeling ill.

"I hardly think you are in a position to be naming conditions," he returned.

"You will let Meg return to the Opera House," Christine continued, ignoring his statement.

Raoul scoffed. "Done. I no longer require her services."

"Services?" Christine asked, questioning his inference.

"I am not used to children, Christine. I only needed Meg around until you came home."

_I will never share a home with you!_ Christine's mind screamed. Outwardly, she simply nodded.

"I am eager to see my daughter," Christine said brusquely. "When are we leaving?"

Raoul moved closer to Christine, walking behind her.

The hair on the back of Christine's neck rose as she felt his fingertips rove across the bare skin of her shoulders.

"Christine," he breathed into her ear. "I am not as horrible as you currently believe. We were friends once; does none of that happiness lurk within the depths of your heart?"

Christine closed her eyes against his words, trying to block him from her awareness.

Raoul continued to caress her neck, her arms. "I know you shall grow to love me, to love our new life together. There is nothing I would deny you. I simply ask that you do not deny me."

"Raoul," Christine whispered, deciding to try another tactic. "Do you truly believe I am going willingly into this situation? Do you believe that by taking my child, by burning my home to the ground…that I will come to love you? Yes, I have decided to return with you, but make no mistake…my actions are for Madeline, and Madeline alone."

Raoul's fingers tightened around Christine's upper arms. "Now I have a condition," he said, his voice a low growl. "You are _never_ to mention your life before me. You will pretend as if the past seven years never happened. You will lead everyone to believe Madeline is _my _daughter…"

Christine closed her eyes against her tears.

"And you will never even _think_ of the monster you married," Raoul finished, spinning Christine around to face him.

She gasped.

"You don't know what you've done, Christine!" He exclaimed, suddenly irate. "You were _manipulated_, tricked by _him!_"

"I make my own decisions, Raoul!" Christine burst out.

Raoul smiled slowly. "I suppose, then, I should be pleased as it seems your decision to come to me is yours…and yours alone."

Christine's eyes went wide as she noticed Raoul scanning the rooftop.

"I know you are there!" He called out. "I know you are lurking in the shadows! How does it feel, _freak_, to know that I will be the one laying beside your precious wife tonight?"

"Raoul, stop," Christine whispered, afraid his provoking would prove to be too much for the hiding Erik.

"Come, _Monsieur,_" Raoul continued. "Do you not wish to bid farewell to your prey? To the woman you have deceived into actually _loving you?_"

Silence.

"He is not here, Raoul. He will never forgive me for this choice," Christine said quietly.

"So it would seem we are even," Raoul panted, his voice tight from his outburst. "For I shall never forgive him for taking you from me."

Christine lowered her eyes.

Raoul moved closer to her again, brushing a lock of hair from her face, allowing his fingertips to graze her smooth cheek.

"Kiss me," Raoul demanded.

"What?" Christine asked, her voice shaking.

"Prove that you are ready to begin a new life with me. Seal this concordance with your kiss," he said, moving closer to her.

"No, Raoul," Christine whispered.

"I can make your life difficult, Christine," Raoul warned. "I believe you and our daughter would prefer I didn't."

Christine was unprepared for the crash of Raoul's lips upon her own. She placed both hands on his muscular chest, trying to keep her body from touching his.

Raoul growled into her mouth, pulling her tightly against him.

Her stomach rolled as she felt the sick evidence of his desire pressing against her lower belly.

His tongue darted into her protesting mouth, violently sweeping over the curves of her lips.

Christine summoned all of her strength and broke the embrace, wiping her mouth in disgust.

Raoul smiled.

"You enjoyed me before," he said, breathing heavily. "I have no doubt history will repeat itself."

"How true you are, Sir," A strong, angry voice answered, sending a shot of panic down Christine's spine.

She turned to see Erik, his face bearing familiar lines of anguish.

"Erik," she whispered. "No…"

"No, no, my dear," Raoul said, his voice strangely happy. "I am _honored _to have the former husband of my new bride here to witness such a joyful day! I fear you are late, Monsieur. The best part of the evening has just concluded."

Erik stared at him murderously.

"I disagree," Erik said lowly, drawing his sword. "It appears the best part of the evening is just about to begin."


	14. The Roof Part II

**_This chapter was longer, but I needed to keep with the cliffhanger theme...teehee!_**

**_I'll post the rest later today..._**

****

**_-Nico_**

* * *

****

****

"I had rather hoped that you would come," Raoul said, pulling Christine to his body with one hand and drawing his sword with the other. "And now my wish comes true; you have truly made my night."

"Free her," Erik growled lowly.

"Erik, no…" Christine said, pulling at Raoul's arm, which was like lead across her body.

Raoul laughed.

"Your lover makes a passionate plea," Raoul remarked.

"Please Erik, it's useless," Christine said, ignoring Christine.

Erik moved closer to the pair, his steps elegant even at the peak of rage.

"Stop there," Raoul commanded, holding the sword dangerously close to the vein throbbing at Christine's neck. He kept his eyes on Erik as he moved Christine's thick hair from her ear. "Tell him," he commanded her. "Tell him your choice."

Christine raised her eyes to meet Erik's.

Tears fell from her dark eyes.

"I'm going with Raoul," she whispered, telling Erik something he already knew.

"No, you are not," Erik replied.

Raoul pressed the tip of his sword to Christine's neck with more pressure, causing several ruby drops of blood to eek out over the blade. "Tell him you love me," Raoul insisted, his voice becoming more urgent. "Tell him!"

"I…I…" Christine stammered, dizzy from pain and the danger of the moment. She kept her eyes locked with Erik's. "I love…"

"Silence!" Erik shouted, causing both Raoul and Christine to jump slightly.

Moving too quickly for Raoul to react, Erik advanced on him, his own sword finding Raoul's throat. "Free. Her." Erik repeated, his eyes glowing an unnatural red.

Raoul swallowed, causing Erik's blade to bounce against his Adam's apple.

"I am going to kill you," Erik announced through clenched teeth. "She does not love you. She will _never_ love you."

Raoul smiled again. "But she loves Madeline," he said cryptically.

Erik pressed his blade further into the delicate skin covering Raoul's neck.

"You may kill me, Monsieur, but don't you think I was intelligent enough to realize you would appear?" Raoul asked.

Erik remained still.

"If I die, so will Madeline," he said, his lips curving into a smile once more. "And so will the Giry girl. It has been arranged."

"Erik," Christine squeaked nervously.

"Where are they?" Erik demanded.

Raoul merely laughed again. "How foolish do you think I am, _Erik?" _He spat the name. "I would die before I gave you their whereabouts."

"They are at his estate," Christine piped up, wincing as Raoul applied more pressure to the sword at her neck.

"Or so I would have your once-wife believe," Raoul said quickly, responding to Erik's glare. "You will not find them without me, Monsieur."

Erik remained frozen. He should have remained in hiding. Of course Raoul would have expected him to appear…he had all but sent an invitation.

He wanted Erik to witness her choice, just as he had when Christine left him in his lair.

Raoul smirked, watching as realization poured over Erik.

Erik lowered his sword.

Raoul mimicked his actions.

"It appears I have bested you once again," Raoul said, almost sounding as if he pitied the masked man standing before him.

"But you have yet to best me," came a strong female voice.

Erik turned to see Madame Giry standing at the roof entrance.

She looked like a warrior from a fable.

Her black skirts swirled around her lithe frame.

Her hair was loose about her face.

A silk, sheer scarf billowed out behind her.

And a shiny revolver glinting in the moonlight was in her unwavering hand.


	15. What is Deserving?

**_Sorry for the delay..._**

**_Hope you guys like this!_**

**_Rememer...NICO LOVES TWO THINGS (when it comes to writing)...CLIFFHANGERS AND PLOT TWISTS!_**

**_Thanks for the SPLENDID reviews! YOU GUYS ROCK!_**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

****

For several moments, no one spoke.

No one moved.

Madame Giry moved slowly, her shoes echoing across the stone of the rooftop.

At the sight of Madame Giry and the revolver in her hand, Raoul had quickly grasped Christine again, holding her fast against his body.

"Madame, you were unfortunately absent when I so carefully detailed the conditions that bring us here," Raoul said lowly. "If you value the life of your daughter and the daughter of these two, you will stop where you are."

Madame Giry raised an eyebrow. "Usually, Monsieur, the person on your end of the gun is not in quite the position to allow conditions."

She continued her procession until she was an arm's length from Raoul, her steady hand aiming the gun directly at Raoul's head.

"He will kill them," Christine whimpered, pulling at the strong arm locked across her chest.

"No, he will not," Madame Giry replied, her eyes locking with Christine's.

For several seconds the women communicated with just a glare.

"You will release Christine," Madame Giry commanded. When Raoul made no movement, she cocked the gun. "Now," she added menacingly.

"You know not what you do, Madame," Raoul said, slowly releasing Christine who ran directly into Erik's arms.

"Don't I?" Madame Giry replied, circling her target slowly.

"You may have the weapon, but I have the upper hand," Raoul continued, fear visible in his eyes as they darted from Madame Giry to Erik and Christine. "I will have great satisfaction in knowing your daughters died horrific, painful deaths."

Madame Giry scoffed. "I believe that some of the most poetic phrases have been uttered just before death," she said cryptically. "As usual, your words fall short."

Like lightning, Madame Giry pulled her ivory balancing cane from its place at her waist. Before Raoul could react, the can whipped across the back of his legs, bringing him to his knees with a grunt of pain.

He made a movement to counter attack, but found the tip of Erik's blade at his throat once more.

"_Whore_," Raoul spat.

The curse was met with a heavy, gloved blow.

Erik wiped the man's blood off of his leather clad hands on the back of Raoul's dark duster.

Madame Giry tsked. "Such hate lies within your soul," she said to Raoul, sounding almost empathetic. "It is a hate that seeks to destroy any beauty surrounding you."

Raoul's eyes flashed as he raised his bloody head to hers. "Beauty?" He rasped, looking up at Erik. "I see no beauty around me. Just monstrous mistakes and complete ugliness that begs to be destroyed."

"Raoul," Christine said softly, moving closer to the man. He looked up at her, nothing but hate in the pools of his irises. 'There was a time I pitied you," she said quietly. "There was a time I shed tears for you, prayed you would find happiness."

She rose to her feet, glaring down at him.

"But now, when I think of you, I shall always remember the darkness that consumed your heart." She continued. "Loving someone means compromising your every delight for that person."

Christine looked at Erik, who was listening to her words while holding the sword against Raoul's pulse.

"I dare say you never experienced that type of love, Raoul," Christine said, looking at her husband. "And somehow, I doubt you ever will."

"Love comes to those who are deserving," Erik said softly, causing everyone to look at him. "Love comes even to those who have wronged, to those whose past decisions should have condemned, or cursed."

He stared at Christine for a long moment.

Tears were brimming on her eyes.

"I lived in darkness you could not begin to comprehend," Erik continued, his voice becoming louder. "I've suffered more; I've caused more to suffer.

"All at once, the sunlight appeared in my night in the form of an angel…an angel I dared only dream about touching, loving,"

He looked back down at Raoul.

"And I loved her," Erik said quietly. "I love her still. And whatever Gods there be saw fit to reward me, to compensate me for the horrible childhood, the years of torture…the endless nights that drifted into the eternal blackness of midnight."

"Erik," Christine breathed, his words painfully resurfacing memories she had fought so long to suppress.

"My reward was her love," Erik continued. "My compensation was her companionship. My heaven is her existence."

Raoul licked at the blood on his lip. "How very _lyrical_," he said spitefully. "I do hope you find comfort in your words as you weep over the grave of your child."

Erik's arm tensed.

For a moment, Christine watched in horror as she anticipated the sword piercing the tender flesh at the base of Raoul's throat.

"You may kill me," Raoul said, eerily calm. "But the blood you spill is that of two innocents."

Erik's face twisted in fury; in control.

How easy it would be to kill this man…to plunge the sword into his neck with a roar of triumph.

"Erik, no," Christine whimpered from somewhere behind him. "You cannot do it," she added.

Raoul smiled.

"You are correct, Christine," Madame Giry said suddenly.

She cocked the gun once more.

"Erik cannot do it," the older woman continued. "However, I can."

And without warning, she pulled the trigger.


	16. Deprived

**_Sorry ya'll...I was out of town on business! _**

**_(Ducks murderous glares and daggers...)_**

**_I'm back though...THIS IS NOT THE END!_**

**_I'm hoping this chapter makes the wait worth it. It was a little sad for me to write, actually. _**

**_Enjoy!_**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

"No!" Christine shrieked in unison with the loud blast from Madame Giry's pistol. 

For a moment, no one moved.

Raoul's hands had instantly gone to his chest.

Bright crimson blood spilled over his hands. He looked up at Madame Giry his eyes dark and angry.

"You've killed your own daughter," Raoul rasped, falling to his knees. "You've killed their daughter as well."

Madame Giry merely watched as the man lay dying before her.

Christine ran from Erik and knelt beside Raoul, who was now flat on his back, his breath coming in heavy panting gasps.

"Raoul," Christine said frantically. "Tell me where Madeline is," she demanded.

Raoul lifted his eyes to her, feebly grasping her chin with his bloodied hands. "I imagine, as soon as word of my death spreads, that you will find her in heaven."

"You evil man!" Christine screamed. She rose quickly, pulling Erik's sword from his limp hand.

So much death, so much destruction.

It would haunt Erik forever.

Christine ran with her husband's sword in hand, placing the tip roughly at Raoul's throat. "Tell me where she is!" Christine cried.

Raoul responded with a gurgling laugh. "I am dead anyway," he told her, his voice low and gravelly. "Why should I tell you?"

Christine closed her eyes briefly, tears falling onto Raoul's face.

Madame Giry suddenly appeared at Christine's side, pulling the sword from her hands. "It is unfortunate, Monsieur, that even as your breath leaves your body…even as you prepare to leave this earth…you are unable to become the decent man you once were."

"Unfortunate for whom, Madame?" Raoul countered. "For myself or your daughters?"

"Shut up!" Shrieked Christine. "You vile creature! Tell me where Madeline is!"

Erik came to her side, placing a strong hand on her elbow. "You would do best to answer," Erik said, his melodic voice tight in his chest. "If you choose to remain silent, I will spend the rest of my life seeing to it that everything you have is destroyed…every family member that bears the De Changy name will fall to ruin…"

"_You have already destroyed me!" _Raoul yelled with surprising force.

Christine winced at the declaration, but forced her mind to eradicate any pangs of guilt.

"Erik, Christine," Madame Giry said softly. "Torment Raoul no more; this is finished."

Christine rounded on the woman she loved so dearly. "Finished?" She cried. "Finished! You have _killed Madeline!" _

Madame Giry blinked. "Heaven forbid!" She said. "You underestimate me, my child. You underestimate the power of true love…and the victory of the always silent Madame of the dance."

Erik and Christine regarded her carefully.

The door to the roof suddenly flung open.

"Mother!" Meg Giry bounded towards her mother. "I know you said to remain hidden…but I heard a gun shot…I couldn't…"

She stopped before she got to Madame Giry, her eyes growing wide at the sight of a completely stunned…and dying…Raoul on the rooftop.

"Meg!" Christine exclaimed. "Where is Madeline?"

"She is in mother's room…what has happened?" Meg stammered.

Christine collapsed into Erik's arms.

Madeline was safe.

Erik soothed her as Madame Giry pulled her only child into her embrace.

"How…how is it possible…how…" Raoul was repeating.

Christine broke from Erik's embrace and walked over to where he lay. "I want you to know that I will not think of you after this moment," she said quietly. "But I do not have any doubts that your thoughts will be filled with myself, my husband, and my beautiful daughter for the rest of your life."

"Which appears to be quite short," Erik added, unable to resist the morbid comment.

"You don't deserve such happiness," Raoul whispered up at Christine.

She looked down at him. "And you will forever be deprived of its equal," she said coldly.

Raoul closed his eyes.

He would never open them again.


	17. Finale

**_Thanks again for the wonderful reviews. If I get enough requests, I may write an epilogue...if not, then this is it. I've decided not to address how Madame Giry managed to rescue Madeline and Meg...I prefer to leave some things to the imagination. _**

**_I hope I've given Erik and Christine the ending everyone was hoping for. I must say, I'd much rather have the story end this way than the way it did in the movie/play/book!_**

**_Thanks for all your support, and feel free to IM/email me any time._**

**_-Nico_**

* * *

****

Although she ran as fast as her legs could carry her, the descent to Madame Giry's private quarters felt as if it took Christine eons.

Both she and Erik were breathless as the reached the heavy oak door that separated them from their daughter.

Christine laid a trembling hand on the doorknob, as if afraid turning it would reveal an empty room once more.

She turned to Erik, who could read her thoughts without words being spoken. He rested his large hand over hers and turned the knob, opening the door slowly.

Madeline was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, draped in various costumes and smeared with bright stage makeup.

"Mama! Papa!" She shrieked, running at them in full force. Christine caught her, falling to the ground as she wept, happily embracing her child.

"My darling, my love!" Christine repeated, showering Madeline's face with kisses.

Erik knelt next to his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder, patiently waiting for Madeline to jump into his arms.

When she did, she nearly knocked him over.

"Maddy," Erik breathed, unable to stop the tears that began to creep from his tired eyes. "Are you alright?" He asked, holding Madeline at arms' length.

Madeline nodded enthusiastically. "The bad man took me away," she said, scowling. "He is very angry and you and Mama."

Erik and Christine exchanged a glance.

"He had a pretty house, but the food was disgusting," she continued. "Meg ate it, but I told him that I thought it was yucky."

Erik chuckled.

"Did he hurt you, Madeline," Christine asked, pulling her daughter closer, inspecting her tiny arms, legs and face.

"No, Mama. He yelled a lot, and he liked to grab my chin and yell right in my face, but it didn't hurt," Madeline pulled at the silk scarf that that was draped around her neck and placed it around Christine's. "He really got mad when I got mud on one of his ugly carpets."

"Yes, he was particularly angry about that," Meg said, appearing in the doorway of her mother's quarters.

"Where is your mother?" Christine asked.

"She's speaking with the officers that just arrived," Meg said, keeping her voice low. "She's explaining the terrible accident the Viscount had with his faulty pistol."

Christine nodded, catching her meaning. All the witnesses to Raoul's death would take the true course of events to their respective graves, maintaining the story that Raoul had died in a state of insanity…

By his own hand.

"Come here, Meg," Erik said softly, rising to his feet.

Meg moved slowly, the effects of her ordeal obviously still affecting her thoughts, mannerisms, and general state of mind.

Erik pulled Meg into an embrace, taking the young woman by surprise. "Thank you for watching over my daughter," he said into her ear. "My wife and I are eternally in your debt."

Christine reached up and grasped Meg's hand, pulling her down to the floor where she sat with Madeline in her lap. She placed an arm around her friend, squeezing tightly.

There was no need for further discussion.

* * *

ONE YEAR LATER

Christine eased herself and the bundle she held into the comforting cushions of her favorite rocking chair.

The water from the underground lake lapped the shores of her home with a comforting rhythm.

She hummed softly, rocking in time with the icy waters within the depths of the Opera Populaire.

Her new home was far more comfortable than she ever imagined it could be. Gone were the dusty pieces of furniture, replaced with gleaming marble and mahogany encased tables, cabinets, and other expensive luxuries.

Erik had even managed to chisel a large bay window on the far wall of the basement, allowing sunlight to pour into the labyrinth from the streets above.

Never had the small family been more comfortable, more happy.

The gates to the lair suddenly lifted. Through the swirling mist, a small boat carrying Erik and Madeline came into sight.

Christine placed a finger to her lips, indicating that the pair should keep quiet.

For Madeline, this proved quite impossible.

"Mama!" She called from the middle of the lake, perched at the front of the boat, which rocked perilously with her movements. "We're back from town!" She announced.

The bundle in Christine's arms suddenly let loose a high-pitched wail.

"Is someone awake?" Erik asked as the boat docked several feet in front of where Christine had settled.

"Yes, it appears that way," Christine replied with a smile, shifting the baby in her arms.

"Yay!" Madeline exclaimed, hurrying to the side of the rocking chair. "He's always _sleeping_," She complained.

"You did too, when you were a baby," Christine informed her, rising from the rocking chair carefully. "Would you like to hold your brother?"

Madeline nodded, taking her mother's place in the rocking chair.

Christine carefully laid the baby in her daughter's small arms. Madeline cooed at her brother, holding him tightly to her chest.

Erik placed an arm around his wife, allowing her to settle against his muscular frame.

"Watch his head," Erik said to Madeline who rolled her eyes in response.

"I know how to hold him, Papa," she told him.

Little Charles looked up at his big sister with wide eyes, one a misty blue, and one a brooding brown.

One color from each of his parents.

The newborn watched the little girl curiously, seemingly memorizing each detail of her flushed face.

"He loves me," Madeline announced, allowing Charles to grasp one of her chubby fingers.

"Yes, he does," Erik agreed.

Christine tipped her head up to her husband, allowing him to claim her lips in a simple loving gesture. "Thank you," he whispered onto her lips.

"For what?" She whispered back.

"For bringing the sun into my life," he replied.

She kissed him again, her heart fluttering at the warmth coursing through her body.

"Mama…" Madeline interrupted, her face screwed into disapproval.

"For heaven's sake, Madeline. You'd think you'd be used to seeing us kiss by now," Christine laughed.

"No, it's not that…" she said, shifting Charles in her grasp.

"What is it?" Erik asked, walking closer to her.

Madeline held Charles out to him.

All at once, Erik understood the problem.

Cradling the baby against his chest, Erik moved to the back room he shared with Christine.

Christine looked at her daughter curiously.

"Future dancing girls do _not_ change diapers," she informed her mother, scurrying off to her room.

Christine laughed, a hearty whole sound.

She was home.


End file.
